The Part of Number Three
by chaserglow
Summary: A monologue of Matt and his thoughts as he reflects on what he's about to--and what he's doing--on what I can only call a suicide mission. Rated for strong language. Matt-centric.


**Summary:** A monologue of Matt and his final thoughts as he reflects on what he's about to -- and what he's doing -- on what I can only call a suicide mission. Rated for strong language.

**Disclaimer: **I don't, nor have I ever, owned Death Note. If I did, the following scene probably wouldn't even have happened.

* * *

For the very first time since I ever knew him, Mello had stopped eating chocolate, if only for a second. When I asked him what was wrong (because there was obviously _something_), he stayed silent for a few moments. Then, finally, he spoke.

"There's something we have to do."

I nodded, knowing that Mello would only ask for my assistance if he really needed it. After we sat in silence for some time, each of us alone in our own thoughts, wondering what was going to happen, he sighed heavily.

"And…I have a plan."

That was precisely one week ago.

I am looking out of my car window now, thinking, when Mello pulls up beside me on his motorcycle.

"Ready?" he asks, looking tense.

I merely nod, not wanting to voice my concerns; they might make him even more nervous. But, as I grin now, a million questions are running through my mind. What if I die? What if, even worse, I survive, but Mello dies? I hold back a shiver as I look at him and then swiftly speed away. When I catch a glimpse of him in my rearview mirror, he is grinning back at me.

I can see his figure growing more and more distant, until a car pulls up behind me, blocking him from view. When I notice that I can no longer spot the boy, I am suddenly overcome by remorse. It is only now that I realize that that may have been the last time I would ever see his face. This is dangerous what we're doing, and there are so many things that I want to tell him, so many things that had been left unsaid. And now it might be too late.

Quickly blinking my eyes, I light a cigarette, trying to shake thoughts like that from my mind. I take deep breaths, inhaling the smoke, and I feel calmer. Whatever happens, happens. Either way, we will be one step closer to catching Kira. Remembering that, I stop the car.

I hold the cigarette between my teeth and release a smoke bomb amongst the crowd. I admire only for a moment the ruckus it causes before promptly stepping on the gas pedal. I don't look back. I am confident that Mello will do what he needs to; I need only to focus on what lies ahead for me.

As I'm making my getaway, I notice in the rearview mirror that several black cars are following close behind: Takada's bodyguards. I hold back a sigh and merely increase my speed, hoping that they'll soon fall far behind. But, before I know it, I see the same type of black cars up ahead. I am completely surrounded.

"How many bodyguards does Takada have?" I mutter angrily, putting my foot on the brake.

As soon as I'm fully stopped, I take another drag of my cigarette, formulating a plan. When I notice that the bodyguards have completely encircled me, all guns pointed in my direction from the car windows, I know that there is only one way to escape. I'll have to use the smoke screen again.

"Come on," I say, opening my car door and putting a foot on the ground, "Since when were the Japanese allowed to carry big guns like that?"

I completely expose myself, confident in the bluff I'm about to make.

"I'm connected to Takada's kidnapper," I declare, "You've probably got a lot to ask me. You aren't going to shoo--"

_Oh, fuck._

I can see the guns firing. I can see the triggers being pulled. And yet, I don't hear a sound. At first, I think I've gone deaf, but then I realize how loud the sound of my own breathing is.

When my body hits the ground, the pain in my chest is unbearable. I take that as a notice of how close I am to dying. I'm vaguely aware that the cigarette is still clenched between my teeth, so I take my final breath. The feeling of smoke in my lungs I know too well. My jaw relaxes.

At last, the cigarette falls.

My final thought is, _This is why I never play poker._


End file.
